At 52, I’m old enough to remember - and dearly miss - my WWII father’s generation and their FIERCE Americanism, devotion, loyalty and Patriotism, and yes American Nationalism.
Our Country, First, Foremost, and always... I miss my Pacific Marine uncles coming over to drink, laugh and argue with my Army Airborne old man, while my mother and my aunts made the barbecue in the yard...
I miss my old neighborhood, with 1950s and 1960s vintage Chevies, Fords, Dodges, PLymouths, and American Motors cars parked on street, and the whole neighborhood turned out when Mr. Bannon got a brand new 1968 Chrysler, beaming with pride at his new car.
I miss Fourth of July, where we blocked off both ends of our street and brought out folding picnic tables and charcoal kettle grills to the pavement, and all the moms cooked all morning, and the dad brought out cold beer and traded war stories from Korea and World War II, and argued about how badly the Phillies sucked or the Eagles, and we all - all of us - waited for the nighttime because the fireworks were coming - they weren’t Illegal to own - and the local neighborhood put their OWN fireworks display on at the local high school athletic field...
We RAN to the field, and sat in the grass as twilight turned dark, and the National Anthem came over the PA system... we’d stand up and put hand over heart, and sing... then the first streaking rocket would go off as the Anthem ended... watching star bursts and pinwheels, and rockets red glare, and we thought to ourselves how we wished those moments would never, ever end, eating Hot Dogs, Popsicles, TastyKakes, and ice cream with REAL transfat and drinking Coke from paper cups...
And when the finale came, and the thunderclaps of the air bursts over head were over, we sang God Bless America at the top of our lungs to end the evening, and clapped and cheered at the end of it all... at the sheer WONDER of it all.
I miss knowing every face on my block, every grumpy old guy and sweet old lady... and cutting their lawns for 1 dollar every summer, and shoveling their pavement in winter for 1 dollar as well.
I miss the fire hydrant in the summer, with the sprinkler attachment, which we’d always take off and hide, so we could blast ourselves across the street with the spray... and the cops would come and yell at us to put the sprinkler back on... and we’d take it off again... Folks would drive their cars up and we’d spray them... it was a cheap car wash, after all...
I miss my neighbors’ faces... I miss going over their houses, and the aroma of dinners being cooked - Irish, Italian, Polish, German, Ukrainian, Spanish cooking... and mothers calling out the front door for us to come home to eat from wherever we were... We didn’t have cell phones, and we somehow always seemed to be able to hear Mom calling us.
I miss “The Three Stooges” on the local UHF station at 4 o’clock every day, RACING home from grade school to watch them, and NO ONE thought they were too violent or harmful... same with Bugs Bunny and Looney Tunes...
I miss the neighborhood beat cop who walked our streets with his nightstick, an Irish guy, who knew EVERY kid by name, and every family, and never had his gun showing, and he always stopped to talk to my paralyzed old man. He was a good guy, and we never DREAMED of calling him a jackbooted thug or pig or anything else, because he was one of US...
I miss the church bells every Sunday morning, from a half-dozen churches within walking distance of my row home - Catholic, Lutheran, Presbyterian - and they were filled with my neighbors.
I miss the Jewish synagogue that was across the street from my Church; it was always filled on Saturdays, and the rabbi there knew all of us as well, and always took time to speak with us and inquire how our families were.
We spoke the same language, worshiped God, shared the same history, the same culture, and loved the same Country, and seeing someone cutting off heads in the Name of Allah was so far out of the realm of real... sort of like the thought of anyone diving airplanes into the World Trade Center...
I miss all of it... it wasn’t “Mayberry RFD”... it WAS America, and it was good and beautiful, and decent...it was place to run to for all of us.
And somewhere along the way, somebody let it all turn to crap.
I miss it so much it breaks the heart...
That was beautiful. Thank you.
NFHale, your post brought tears to my eyes.
boxlunch, for you, sis ...
Thank you for that NFHale! I got teary eyed at that, and at all the security and blessings my teenage kids may never know. A lot of what you describe was still true even 10-15 years ago, at least in our little suburb in north Texas. But our world has changed SO much in those past 10-15 years. I feel we’ve been invaded and taken over by aliens; aliens to our country, or morals, our customs, we’ve lost that sweetness of caring for each other and pride in America, of all having the same outlook and values. What happened to us?
Hale!
Brother, you are welcome at my campfire anytime.
God, I miss America.
That is one fine post. You should write a book about your childhood. It sounds wonderful.
NFHale, if you are not a writer, you should be. That is one of the most beautiful descriptions of the America of my childhood that I have ever read. Thank you. I miss it so....
Wow. Beautifully written. I miss that America too.
That is beautiful. Thank you. I’m 53 and I remember that America.
How I wish I could bequeath that country to my children, instead of the putrid, squalid mess the America-hating Left has made it.
I remember that America, too. Your post broke my heart because that place is so far away now. Still, I embrace and love those memories. Thank you for your post.
What a POST!!!
Makes my screen all blurry. “:’^{
Thank you - I grew up in a small town in E. Oregon and my life was much like you describe. It’s hard to believe how far we have come from those days.
I would add putting up a tent in the back yard and “camping” overnight, telling ghost stories by flashlight.
Playing kick the can or olly olly oxen free (sp?) with the neighbor kids ‘til dusk.
Drinking Hawaiian fruit punch, believing it was intoxicating and getting very very silly.
Going up on Canyon Mountain, throwing rocks off the hill, seeing pictures in the clouds, and watching as the stars came out.